Father And Son
by ConsultingCaffrey
Summary: Cal would do anything for his son, Richie. Sometimes neither of them realize that. Featuring my best bro's OC, Richie.


Summer was in full swing and that meant Cal was out every day, tagging or hunting. Richie didn't mind and Cal knew this. His son was content to spend time with the horses out in the field. In fact, it seemed to be the highlight of his day.

But Cal never strayed far from the cabin, feeling obligated to keep an eye on his son. Out here in the woods, you never knew what could happen.

It was one such day. Cal had taken the old, reliable Winchester from its place in the closet and found Richie already putting his boots on.

"Give them a salt lick from the shed," he suggested, "You know where to find them. On the bottom shelf next to their oats. Put one out in the middle of the field. There's a patch of dirt there, you'll feel it under your feet."

Richie nodded. He knew what to do, but his father liked to give instruction, liked to make sure. When he'd first come to live with him, he'd thought it was because of him being blind. However, after a short while, he quickly realized that Cal was like that with everyone.

"I'll be just over the stream today," Cal said, "So I'll hear you if you call. I need to go check for that moose that's been hanging around. Maybe I'll be able to tag him today."

Richie listened to his father ramble as he searched for the apples he'd set aside for the horses. Once he had them, he stuck them in his pockets and moved to the door. Cal was already there and he held it open, letting Richie go out first before following.

Richie walked slowly towards the paddock, following the well-worn trail with his bare feet while he heard his father's footsteps move off in a different direction, heading towards the meadow on the other side of the stream.

The horses nickered at Richie's approach and he smiled, walking up to the fence and producing the apples from his pockets. He held them out through the fence. Two velvety noses brushed his skin as the creatures accepted his gifts and once his hands were empty, he reached up to stroke their faces.

Averroes was easily distinguishable because he never slipped his halter off. He was calmer as well, not moving his head. Richie knew that he was a beautiful paint. Cal had told him so when he'd given the horse to him as a gift. The other, Crusoe, was a buckskin.

"You boys want some salt?" Richie asked, smiling some more as Averroes pushed against his hand, blowing softly as if answering the question.

Richie followed the path to the shed and stepped inside, easily locating the shelf where the salt licks were. He grabbed one and headed back out, ducking under the fence and walking into the paddock. One of the horses walked beside him, its lips going for the salt in his arms. Another trailed behind, probably Averroes.

When he felt the grass disappear underfoot, replaced with soft earth, Richie stopped and dropped the precious treat, listening in amusement as the two horses went at it like it was a rare thing.

He headed back the way he'd come, eventually reaching the fence and ducking back under to exit the paddock. He planned to head back into the shed for a brush, but he paused when he realized he couldn't feel the dirt path. He must have come through the fence in a different spot.

But it was no trouble. All he had to do was listen and he could figure out where he was. The dripping of the faucet by the trough was coming from his left so all he had to do was keep walking and he'd reach the shed again.

However, he only took a few steps before coming to a halt once more. This time, it was a new sound. A sort of hissing noise, but it was faint. He took a hesitant step and the hissing noise came again, this time accompanied by an unmistakable rattle.

He knew there were snakes around here. Dangerous ones, but none had come close to the house thus far. He hadn't really thought about what he'd do in a situation like this.

He couldn't see the snake, but it had obviously spotted him. He listened closely, pinpointing the rattling noise to somewhere in front of him, though there was no way to tell how far or what the snake's reach was.

Richie stayed still, waiting and hoping the animal would slither off once it realized he wasn't a threat. But the rattling continued and he remained where he was, not really knowing what else to do.

The strike came as a surprise, and when he felt the snake's fangs sink into his leg, he screamed and leaped back, then screamed again out of the knowledge of what had just happened. His father had said he'd be close, hadn't he?

Cal was close, close enough to hear clearly the cry that pierced the air belonging to his child. Without a thought, he was running, sprinting over the ground with the Winchester swinging in his grip. He took maybe half a second to think about whether the safety was still on, realized it was, then dropped the thought completely.

He jumped over the stream where earlier he'd stepped through it, and now he came in sight of the horse fence and Richie scrambling away from it.

In no time at all, he was at his side and he dropped the gun, at the same instant spotting the diamondback in the grass, moving quickly away from the commotion. He didn't stop for a second, wrapping his arms around Richie and lifting him clear off the ground, swinging him away from the thing and putting himself between the two. No need. The snake was already gone.

He walked only a short distance, then put Richie down again, speaking as calm as ever, "I'm here. Where'd it get you?"

Richie pulled up his pantleg and his father made him sit in the grass, deft hands drawing his pocket knife and wasting no time in cutting a line through the two puncture marks. Richie gasped, but Cal reassured him with a gentle murmur. He pressed his lips against the wound and sucked, pulling the poison out. After a moment, he spat off to the side and inspected the bite again. After one more time, he looked at Richie and asked, "How does it feel?"

Richie could feel the burn in his vein still, but it wasn't spreading anymore, so he said shakily, "Not bad." He was trembling, unable to stop.

Cal scooped his son gently into his arms and carried him back wordlessly. His strange calmness made Richie feel a little better, but he was still scared.

He clung to his father's shoulders all the way back to the house, focusing on the heavy footsteps in the grass and then they stopped. The old truck door creaked open and Richie was deposited ever so carefully onto the seat.

With unsteady hands, he pulled his seatbelt around and buckled in, and by that time, Cal was in the truck as well so seconds later, they were on their way.

It was an enjoyable ride, in an odd way. Cal talked, presumably to keep Richie's mind busy and for that he was grateful.

"I almost got that moose. He was standing just inside the treeline so his dark fur seemed to melt into the shadow from the woods. He was big. Not like the one we saw on the way up here. That one was still the biggest one I've seen. But this one's close. Maybe just a few years shy of it."

He spoke with that same manner of calm as always and Richie could almost pretend that nothing had happened and that they were only heading into town for a supply run. Cal always let him get a candy bar or something and he wondered if that was a possibility now.

It seemed like only a couple minutes had passed before the truck parked, but it was a twenty minute drive at least, unless Cal had been speeding. Richie wouldn't doubt it.

From there, it was a mess of strange people and strange smells in an unfamiliar place and Richie would have made a break for it if Cal wasn't there. His rough hand was a permanent touch, holding Richie's in a gesture of comfort the man didn't often display.

After what felt forever, the chaos settled down and the doctors said that Richie only had to stay for a few hours, just to make sure the poison was gone and hadn't caused any lasting damage.

Richie sat on the bed nervously, ears twitching at every sound. Cal was nearby, sat in a chair as he flipped through a magazine. Must have been about hunting or fishing because not much else interested him, it seemed.

After a while, Richie asked him, just to satisfy that wee bit of curiosity.

"It's National Geographic," came the reply. "I'm reading about a hiker they found in Utah near the canyons. I told you about those. Horseshoe was the one I hiked with your mother."

Richie hummed. "I remember."

The rest of the time was spent in silence with nothing but the faint sounds from out in the hallway and the pages of Cal's magazine turning. He must have read through it twice or maybe three times already.

When the doctors finally released Richie, he didn't think he could get out to the truck fast enough, but Cal kept a tight grip on his hand, preventing him from doing so.

The drive home was much the same as the drive there. Cal talked with that quiet voice of his, this time telling about the story he'd read in greater detail. He sounded like he was reciting the whole thing from memory, but that was just how he talked. He was a story teller at heart.

At home, it was a little after noon and Cal made Richie head straight inside, saying, "Go sit on the couch. I'll bring you something to eat."

Richie did so obediently, happy to sit quietly and listen to the noises coming from the kitchen. It didn't take long. Cal didn't know how to cook anything unless it was over a campfire, so what he brought was sandwiches.

Richie hadn't realized how hungry he was until he took a bite and he felt the plate become a little bit lighter as his father took one for himself.

For a while, there was just peace and quiet, then Richie heard Cal get up and walk towards the door, saying, "I left the gun in the yard. I'll be right back."

Richie tilted his head, listening to his father walk over to the door, then called, "Are you going to kill it?"

There was a pause, then Cal replied, "Do you want me to?" The tone of his voice betrayed that, yes, he'd been planning on it, but Richie shook his head. "It wasn't the snake's fault. I scared it, that's all."

There was another short pause and then Cal said, "Alright. I won't kill it."

He walked out to retrieve the gun and Richie listened, wondering if he really meant it, but there was no gunshot and Cal returned a minute later to put the old Winchester back in the closet.

The couch dipped beside Richie and he scooted over some to make room as Cal sat down, but a strong arm pulled him back until he was leaning against his father's shoulder. His shirt smelled like wood and bourbon, a familiar and welcome thing. Richie let his head rest against the other man and one of those rough hands rubbed his arm, curled around him in another of those rare gestures of comfort. He'd have to start keeping track because moments like this were sacred. Neither of them spoke, but somehow they knew all the other had to say and it was enough.

Richie soon fell asleep and Cal looked down at him, a slight smile tugging at his lips. He'd been afraid today for the first time in quite a while. He'd almost forgotten what the feeling was. But it had only strengthened that fierce protectiveness over his son.

Tomorrow, he decided, he'd take Richie for a trail ride like he'd been asking for since the day Averroes had become his. He was a good horse. It wouldn't be hard.

Carefully, Cal eased himself out from under Richie and made sure he was still asleep before heading out to the paddock. He had some work to do with the horses before taking them out with his son tomorrow.


End file.
